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The two men outside load in after me. In seconds, we’re up in the air, my stomach rolling from the motion as the tall trees below become broccoli sized. The turquoise lake below fades from view as we soar over it and head east.
Phew. A sense of relief washes over me because I made it out safely, but that’s stupid. I don’t know what I’m running from. And now that I think about it, if someone had shown up to my lake house, I could travel halfway around the globe in the blink of an eye. Kyle would just have to send me a photograph to show me where to go, and poof, I’m there. Something about this extraction feels…strange.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” I ask Muscle Man, who’s seated next to me.
He keeps his steely gaze focused ahead. “You’ll be debriefed when we get there, sir.”
Sir? A little formal, aren’t we?“Just call me Huff. So, where am I going?”
“Don’t know your final destination, sir,” he says, refusing to use my first name. “We’re instructed to drop you at a private airport near here and get you on board the plane.”
Oh great. This doesn’t sound shady at all. But I have no choice; I have to trust them.
Actually, that’s not true.Again, I could still zip right out of here with one thought. Where would I go? It’s difficult to pick a safe place when I don’t know what the threat is, but I’m sure I could figure something out. There was a cabin my parents used to rent for us when I was little. I also know a little sandwich shop that makes really good pastrami on rye. Been dying for an excuse to visit. But if I leave now, I won’t find out what’s up.
Less than thirty minutes later, we’re touching down on a concrete pad to the side of a landing strip and airplane hangar, all surrounded by lush green jungle.
We’re immediately greeted by more armed men, also dressed in camo, who usher me away from the spinning blades of the helicopter. My nerves begin to tingle with restlessness because the entire situation feels panicky.
“Sir! This way!” A man with gray hair, wearing khakis and a white golf shirt, is waving by the door of the hangar. I have no clue who these people are, but I’m getting the impression they want it that way.
“Hurry!” He gestures for me to go inside and take the stairs to the waiting plane. The thing is huge. Jumbo-jet sized.
“I’m not boarding until someone tells me what’s going on,” I say.
“Sir, if you’d please—”
“Huff! Get your ass up here.”
My eyes follow the length of the rollaway staircase to where Kyle’s head is poking out of the plane’s door. He’s changed his hair color to jet black, and he has a spray tan. Weird, but still a welcome sight. I’ve never been this happy to see anyone.
He and I never really got along growing up. I was an introverted nerd. He was, and still is, a cocky, driven brainiac. After our sister, Joy, was murdered over six years ago, the wedge grew even bigger between us. Between the whole family, really. Instead of pulling together, we each dealt with our loss in different ways. Me, I shut out the world completely. My parents and Kyle spent every waking second pursuing justice for Joy and pretty much ignoring me—the youngest child. Kinda messed me up.
Fast-forward to now, and I’m grateful that Kyle is the ambitious, power-hungry prick that he is. It’s why I’m not locked away in some military dungeon being experimented on.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say with a smile. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see him again. “What’s with the black hair and tan?”
“Consultants said it makes me look more distinguished. And nice to see you, too, little shit.” He waves me up. “Hurry. We have a lot to go over.”
I climb the stairs, and he hugs me tight, clapping my back with one hand. He lets go and stares with a glint in his brown eyes.
Crap. I know that look. It means he’s getting ready to sell me on something.
“What is it now? What’s happened?” I ask.
“Before I say anything, promise you won’t have one of your infamous freak-outs.”
“I don’t ‘freak out,’” I argue. “I have a deadly rage issue.” Staying calm is essential to the well-being of those around me.
Kyle frowns.
“All right. No freaking out, but at least prep me properly. How bad is what you’re about to say?”
“On a scale of one to ten, it’s a twenty.”
CHAPTER THREE
Kyle walks me to the middle of the plane, where a group of nine men are waiting. All older. All in suits or dress shirts. None of them look happy. Frosty frowns all around.
